After The Fact
by BiteMeTechie
Summary: Ash looks back on his adventures from the safest vantage point humanly possible...or is it?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Ash. If you need me to tell you this, you're in sorrier shape than I originally thought.

If I _did_ have an Ash all my own, I would be much gentler with him than Raimi is.

Oh yes, so _very_ gentle -wiggles eyebrows-

------------------

I'm not crazy. No matter what they tell you, let me assure you that I'm completely sane.

My story is far fetched, yeah, ok, I admit that, but it _is_ true.

You see, I could have been king.

No, no, don't look at me like I'm nuts. I'm tellin' the truth here.

Oh, bored indifference...that's _so_ much better than looking at me like I've lost my marbles. Wait until you've heard the whole story before you pass judgment, alright?

Alright. Here goes.

I could have been king.

There I was, in the middle ages. Offered a crown, a country...beautiful women spread out as far as the eye could see.

Everything a guy could ask for and then some.

And oh, trust me, it was 'and then some'...you should've seen some of those hand maidens.

You remember those old Tex Avery cartoons with that hot redhead? Pretty damn close approximation of the action running around in that town, lemme tell ya...and the-

Never mind. Let's just say that there were beautiful women lined up waitin' for me and leave it at that.

And that's in addition to the offer of an entire kingdom _and_ the undying loyalty of droves of peasants, knights and not-so-wise men alike.

I would've deserved it, you know that? After all the hell I went through with that damn book, it woulda been quid pro quo if I had taken the throne and ruled.

I would have been a _great_ king, what with my knowledge of modern government and democracy and things like that. My kingdom would have gone down in history as one of the best, brightest, and most technologically advanced of it's time. They would have written books about me. With those fancy little etched thingies for illustrations.

Come to think of it, 'King Ash the Great' is an _excellent_ title for a novel. If I were to ever sell my story to a publisher, that's what I'd go with. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

There's that skeptical look again. Stop that. It could happen. There's probably a billion women out there waiting to read a historical romance with yours truly in the title role.

After the rights were sold and the book was a smash success, some Hollywood mogul would have made a movie or two with someone dashing playing me...

Nah...nobody in the world could do me justice.

Well, _maybe_ Bruce Campbell...but he'd have to have a lot of work done to get up to _my_ level.

Where was I?

Oh, right. I would have been the best king this planet had ever seen, but I decided to take the high road and go back to where I came from, back to where I belong.

Of course, that didn't go quite as planned.

I wonder how many things in my life I can claim have gone 'according to plan'.

I'm batting about five, right now, I think.

Oh sure, _now_ you look like you believe me.

Ouch, my pride. The second I hint at my losing streak you're all ears. That's great for my ego you know.

But I'm getting off track again. That seems to happen a lot these days. Anyways, old spinach chin sent me back to my own time so I could live out the rest of my days in peace where I was meant to be.

Back to Michigan, the S-Mart and my nice quiet housewares department, where the most exciting thing to happen is an occasional toaster oven explosion.

I had nothing to do with that, by the way. Regardless of what that little weasel Ted told you. It was _not_ my idea to make mini pizzas while we were on the clock.

And I didn't leave an oven mitt in there causing a fire to break out either.

There seem to be lots of rumors circulating about my behavior at work lately, you know that?

For the record, I did **not** shoot up the place, kill an innocent bystander and then try to force myself on a female coworker.

Well, ok, I kinda _did_ end up shooting up the place, but the other two parts of that particular rumor are totally untrue.

As for the coworker...well, I didn't hear any complaints.

And that was no 'innocent bystander'. That was a deadite hell bent on-

Don't shake your head at me, I am _not_ a sad, pathetic little man with an overactive imagination. I could have been king!

-----

"He's talking to himself again," Perre the janitor said, staring in through the small, square Plexiglas observation window in the door, beneath which was a small plaque reading 'Williams'. He watched with interest as Ash wriggled inside his straight jacket against the white padded wall, his lips moving all the while as he recounted the horrors and the glory that he had found throughout his many travels to an audience who wasn't there.

"That's to be expected, Mister Tattorb," the woman who was standing nearby replied, flipping through chart after chart on her clip board, skimming each before dismissing it and moving on to the next. She withdrew a pen from the pocket of her lab coat and scribbled momentarily on the chart belonging to the man whose cell she was standing in front of before she slid the pen back to it's rightful place.

Perre turned to look at her for a moment, "You think he really believes all that stuff he's sayin', Doctor Masi?"

"Call me Mira, Perre," she said before indicating the window with a wave of her hand, "And of course he believes it. He's delusional. Delusional people always have unshakeable faith in their delusions."

The old janitor shuffled his feet a bit and peeked back through the window, pity in his gaze, "You know, sometimes when I listen to him, I actually believe some of the stuff he says."

For the first time in several minutes, the doctor looked up and stared straight at the janitor. She tilted her head slightly to the left and looked at him appraisingly, "Really? And why is that?"

"I dunno," he replied with his white moustache twitching as he gave the wide broom in his hand a distracted push, "He just seems so genuine, is all. So passionate and sure that it's real."

The doctor laughed lightly before patting the old man on the back, "Oh, he's passionate alright."

A snap echoed through the empty hallway, the sound so sudden and sharp that it cut through the silence with deafening intensity and the old janitor dropped face first onto the floor, his neck snapped in half like a stick of celery.

The doctor's eyes traveled from Perre's body back up to the observation window. She took another step towards it and placed her hand on the Plexiglas, eyes alight and voice lowered to an unhealthy sounding rasp.

"Passionate, and you have no idea just _how_ genuine."

----------------

A/N: This turned out...different than I thought it would. This stupid thing managed to evolve and change on me as I wrote it. Originally, it was just going to end with someone banging on the wall, shouting at Ash to just shut up, then it almost became a Batman crossover (I thought about making it Arkham Asylum...whee, wouldn't _that_ have been fun? Joker and Ash in the same building...dear God what a mess) and finally it turned into this...whatever it is.

It's got an open ending so I suppose if I ever wanted to continue it I could do so quite easily, but I'm not sure I want to. I'm antsy that I didn't get Ash's voice right. There are parts where I can just hear him saying the lines and then there are other parts where I just hear myself trying to be smarmy. Gah. It's actually kinda traumatic to write him because I love him so much and hate the idea of making him out of character.

I don't know... should it continue? Yes? No? Ideas?

One final note: The names Mira Masi and Perre Tattorb are anagrams. Anyone intimately familiar with the ED series should be able to figure out what they're anagrams _of_.

I am _such_ a fangirl. -face palm- Viva La Ash!


	2. Chapter 2

I seem to be going through this phase of 'Must make one-shots into full blown epics' and thusly, this is continuing. Why? Because I can and that's a damn good enough reason for anything. Plus people seem to like it and it's an excuse to play around with that God among men: Ash.

Fangirls for the win! -throws arms in the air-

A final note: the story's structure will remain the same in subsequent chapters as it was in the first. Half from Ash's POV and half in third person. I'd like to think of it as being like a comic book...part of it in voice over captions and part of it in dialogue and action.

What? I read comics...stfu.

----

Them. They.

Two of the most paranoid words in the English language.

It's always 'It's us or _them_!' or '_They_ want me dead!'.

So yeah...definitely the two most _paranoid_ words in the whole dictionary.

Two words that I'm intimately familiar with.

And two words that I'm having a hard time remembering right now because one of _them_ happens to be standing over me, and this particular member of the _Them_ clan has a set of legs on her that would make Betty Grable envious.

Evil. Evil. Remember she's evil. Remember she's evil.

Evil with legs up to her neck, but **evil**.

You know, she has a real naughty librarian vibe to her. Hair in one of those tight, severe buns, glasses and a high neck sweater under that lab coat...yeah. Naughty librarian.

Why the hell am I thinking about this?

Maybe I really _have_ lost my marbles...

I still don't get why they haven't killed me yet. I'm at their mercy, after all. It's not like I have any hope for _escape_ or anything. My only option would be to chew my way through the walls, and I'm keeping that reserved as an absolute _last_ resort. They'll slip up eventually, I can wait. I'm just waiting around until they decide to try and kill me or move me or something, since that'll give me the best chance of getting my hands on something to work with.

But so far, all they've done is observe me.

_Why_?

I'm a sitting duck, they could just wring my neck and nobody would be the wiser. Why keep me as a glorified pet?

I don't like this...I don't like this at all...

----

She stood over him, clip board in hand and looked at him with malice in her eyes, "Good evening, Mister Williams. I'm Doctor Masi and I've been assigned to be your psychiatrist."

She wasn't the least bit discouraged when all he did was glance at her hatefully and spit at her.

"So nice to see you're adjusting to your surroundings," she said with an unsettling smile, "So, Mister Williams...feel like talking to me today?"

"Why are you keepin' me here?"

Doctor Masi, or rather, the possessed husk that _used_ to be Mira Masi, laughed mildly, "To the point, Mister Williams. I like that."

"Knock it off with the Mister Williams garbage, would ya?" he snapped, "Why are you keepin' me here? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"I don't know what you mean," she answered innocently, "I'm your _Doctor_, Mister Williams...I'm here to _help_ you...not hurt you."

She tipped her head at him, the light filtering in through the small square window in the door catching her eye and making it glisten, "Unless of course you _want_ me to hurt you...do you want me to hurt you, Mister Williams?"

She crouched down in front of him and got within an inch of his face, "Do you want us to _kill_ you, Mister Williams?"

"I want to know why the hell you're keepin' me as a pet and not wearin' my guts for garters."

"Please, _Ash_, we're not so barbaric anymore," she replied, smiling so widely her face looked like it might crack in half, "Someone taught us the value of strategy long ago. You're the only man who has ever defeated us and lived...we want to know what makes you such a threat. What is it that makes _you_ successful against us where so many others have failed?" Her dark eyes lit up with an inner fire, "In essence, Mister Williams...we want to know what makes you tick so that we can crush any others that rise up against us _like_ you."

"So _that's_ why you're keepin' me around? You want a lab rat?"

"I wouldn't use so pedestrian a term...but if the shoe fits." She stood once again to look down on him, "We intend to test your limits and find out what will finally break you...and when we find it-"

The Deadite in Doctor's clothing snapped the pencil she was holding in half as easily as she had the old janitor's neck and dropped the pieces next to Ash on the padded floor.

"Come, Mister Williams...your first test awaits."

-----

A/N: Do I know where I'm going with this? Not a clue. I _never_ know what I'm doing. I go wherever the Muses take me, whenever they take me. I have no control over my creative drive whatsoever.

Oh lord...I just got an idea for a Clerks one shot.

It never ends, I swear.

Ahem. Any thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

Since the review reply feature has decided to hate me _again_, I'll say it here:

Sadly, this particular tale _won't_ be a Batman crossover (if you're interested in Batsy fics, I've written four in that universe, check those out). Maybe someday I'll do an Evil Dead/Batman story (probably get bitten by the one shot bug sometime this week...I can feel a flood of stories brewing at the back of my brain, just _waiting_ to be let loose on society), but this one will stay rooted firmly in the ED universe. Sorry dude.

---

You know, I think I liked it better when I didn't know what they were up to.

It's like those prisons where they stick you in a room for God knows how long, telling you that one day they'll come for you and the paranoia and uncertainty starts getting to you.

The not knowing may be torture, but when they finally _do_ come for you, you start missing the not knowing part.

Did that make sense?

Who cares...I sure as hell don't. Not now anyways...I got to much else on my mind to be thinkin' about stuff like _that_.

I can just tell that this is going to be something I'm going to regret doing later, but what choice have I got? I can't stay _here_ forever...and they'll drag me out if I don't go willingly...maybe even drug me.

And if I'm gonna be forced out into the great unknown outside this damn cell, I'd like to do it with my faculties intact, know what I mean?

But I gotta make it look good...I gotta make it look like I'm doin' this 'cause she's tellin' me to. I can't let on that I've got any _other_ plans brewing at the back of my brain.

-

Doctor Masi pushed open the door to the cell and stepped out. The cold, sterile metal made a thud as it hit the rapidly stiffening body of the old janitor who lay on the floor, unseeing, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling and his neck bent at an angle that it was most _definitely_ not meant to be.

The leggy brunette turned to look at Ash, who remained on the floor in his straight jacket, glaring at her as though he hoped he could burn holes in her.

"Mister Williams, please cooperate," she said, a slight warning in her tone, "I wouldn't want to have to get the orderlies and have them taser you."

He didn't move and if at all possible, his gaze became even more intense.

The Doctor let out a slow breath and her voice morphed to the unattractive rasp it had been before, "_Now_, Mister Williams. **UP.**"

Ash's eyes flashed angrily...defiantly.

However, logic won out and he complied with the Doctor's wishes.

While _she_ thought it was because he didn't want to tangle with two burly orderlies, Ash's reasoning was his own.

After all, there was a better chance of getting his hands on something that he could possibly use as a weapon out there...staying inside this cramped, claustrophobic cell wouldn't advance his plans for escape at all.

If there was even hope for escape, of course.

Doctor Masi smiled eerily and held the door open a little wider so that Ash could pass. Stepping gingerly over the body of the dead janitor, she saw with satisfaction that the shadow of disgust flitted across his features.

"You killed him," he said hatefully, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"Indeed I did," she replied carelessly.

He turned burning eyes on her, "Why?"

A chuckle rumbled deep inside her chest, "He was becoming sympathetic to you. We couldn't have _that_, now could we?" Doctor Masi gestured to the left, "This way."

"What are you going to do with me?" Ash asked suddenly as he followed behind the Deadite.

"I thought we discussed this already, Mister Williams...we intend to test you until we find what breaks you." She turned a corner, "We don't want to run the risk of coming up against someone else like you without being prepared."

"The Deadites I've gone up against before were nowhere _near_ as sharp as you are."

The doctor grinned as though flattered, "I'll take that as a compliment, Mister Williams…but to be honest, we have you to thank for _that_ particular change in our pathology."

Ash stopped dead in his tracks, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Doctor Masi, aware of the fact that Ash had stopped following her, turned to look at him, "Your evil counterpart, of course. Before Evil Ash came to us, we were without direction...without a leader...left without logic and organization. We merely killed for the sake of killing...but _after_..."

Her eyes sparkled maliciously, "He was like you...strong of will, with the need to survive and overcome. He taught us the value of strategy."

Ash's eyes went cold, "So you're sayin' this is _my_ fault?"

"Not in so many words, but yes...if you want to blame yourself for our evolution, by all means, do."

-

A/N: And so the Deadite's evolution from unthinking brutes to calculating villains is explained. Makes sense, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Great.

If what my _doctor_ is spouting off about is _true_, then it's **my** fault that I'm dealing with a smarter species of Deadite.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Of course, that makes sense...I don't remember there being any crafty critters back _before_ I was dumped in medieval wherever it was. They were all...kinda...dumb.

Sure they were _relentless_, but they didn't show any signs of higher intelligence.

Until my double took them over and appointed himself king, that is.

And of _course_ without me around to wipe out all the ones who picked up his dazzling leadership skills they evolved beyond their original limitations.

I knew I shoulda stayed and been king...

Maybe _then_, this never would've happened.

-

The Deadite doctor was smiling eerily as she led Ash through hallway after hallway around corner after corner.

To be honest, the room that she had intended to bring him to wasn't all _that_ far from his cell, but it was better to lead him in circles and make him a bit disoriented. After all, the more confused he was about his surroundings, the less likely he was to be able to find an escape route.

Hence the walking in circles.

He was too engrossed in thought to realize this was what she was doing, and as an added bonus, she was making it seem like the hospital was _much_ larger than it actually was.

Doctor Masi was having a hard time keeping her predatory grin from showing.

Considering the fact that he was the one who spawned the new, improved Deadite, the man wasn't the brightest bulb in the box.

"Getting tired, Mister Williams?" She asked conversationally, retaining her human voice and letting it lilt in a feminine manner to unsettle him.

Her only reply was a grunt and the feeling of his eyes glued to the back of her head.

She could practically _feel_ his anger hitting her like a physical force.

It sent a shiver up her spinal column and caused a sudden thrill to bubble in her blood.

Oh, how satisfying it would be to finally _break_ him. To crush his spirit to the point that he wouldn't be able to recover. To make that perfectly cool exterior crack and leave him a blubbering mess, begging for mercy.

Another pleasant shudder spilled down her back when she stopped in front of a steel door labeled '314' and she turned to look at her captive, a gleam in her eyes that belied bloodlust.

"We're here, Mister Williams."

-

A/N:You guys _do_ realize that this thing only continues if it gets reviews, right? 'Cause I've got a load of _other_ things I could be working on that people actually _bother_ to read.

So I'm not good at subtlety...what's your point?


	5. Chapter 5

Oh, she thinks she's clever.

'I'll march the mental patient around in circles for awhile and he won't know the difference'.

Like I'd actually fall for _that_. Spare me. I could have been a _king_, remember?

See now, _this_ is where they always make their mistakes.

_Never_ underestimate the enemy.

Of course, _I_ seem to have made the same blunder.

After all, I shouldn't have expected all of them to look like _her_, right? There was bound to be _some_ variation...can't possibly expect every modern model of Deadite to be built like a pin-up.

But I wasn't expecting one to be built like a _tank_ either.

Oh Ash, what _have_ you gotten yourself into this time?

----

Within the confines of cell 314, waiting for the arrival of his new playmate, stood a mammoth of a man, six foot eight and three feet wide at the shoulders. His eyes were vacant and glassy, but there was an undeniable aura of _evil_ that came off of him in waves. Like a stench that hung heavily in the air that couldn't be ignored no matter how much you wish you could.

The Deadite who currently inhabited the husk of Doctor Mira Masi thought that the look on Ash Williams face was the most priceless thing she'd seen in the entire history of her existence.

Quite a feat since her essence was close to two centuries old...

Though the look of absolute shock was momentary as she unlocked the cell door and gestured for him to step inside, she cherished those few seconds when he looked like a trapped animal desperately looking for any kind of escape available.

He recovered almost immediately and the mask of fearlessness slid back into place as he defiantly stepped towards the open doorway.

Ash paused to look at his keeper appraisingly, "What're you playin' at, Doc?"

She looked at him with the most unsettling grin on her face--the sort of smile that could set a man's teeth on edge and make him flinch from twenty feet away--"Why Mister Williams...I shan't be playing anything. Now Ognom on the other hand...Well, he _is_ rather fond of games. Though I doubt they're the sort you'll enjoy."

Doctor Masi reached out and gave Ash an inhumanly strong shove that sent him sprawling into cell 314 and onto the floor.

"But if it's any consolation, Mister Williams," she mocked from the doorway, grin still set firmly in place and eyes shining, "_I_ shall enjoy watching them _immensely_."


	6. Chapter 6

I should have been king. I really, _really_ should have stayed and been king.

Who cares? I'm gonna die.

I should have stayed in the past and I'm gonna die.

I'm also starting to miss that cramped little room.

Mostly because, regardless of whether or not I dislike small spaces; a tiny, cramped cell is always better than a big, roomy one that you gotta share with a roommate.

Especially a roommate like _this_ one.

Me and my fantastic plan of 'Oh yes, I'll just do whatever she tells me to and wait for an opportunity to make a break for it!'

Great idea, Ash. You lunkhead.

Did I mention I'm gonna die?

'Cause I am gonna _die_.

He's bigger than me, meaner than me, I don't have a weapon, my hands--oh pardon me, _hand--_ is still confined in a straight jacket _and_ my enemy is demon possessed.

Yup. I'm screwed. No chance in hell of making it out of this in one piece.

Or two pieces, for that matter...

I'm pretty sure it's going to be a minimum of _fifteen_ pieces that I wind up in _if_ there's anything left after Ognom rips me limb from limb and grinds my bones to make his bread.

So...uh...are you there, God? It's me...Ash...the promised one...fulfiller of propehsies...you know the drill...coulda been king etcetera and so on?

How about a little help?

Anytime would be good.

Now would be better.

Preferably _before_ I'm snapped in half over Goliath's knee...

---

The door to cell 314 slammed shut behind Ash and the Deadite outside watched with glee as Ognom, a former inmate and now host to a Candarian Demon, advanced on the vulnerable man in the straight jacket.

Mira Masi knew what this man was capable of...had heard all of the things he'd done in the past...he was a _legend_, to be certain.

That begged the question of how he would manage to get out of this predicament.

He had no weapons _and_ his opponant was almost three times his size.

Doctor Masi's brow furrowed as she watched Ash take two steps back and run headlong at the behemoth in front of him, knocking him squarely in the chest with all his might.

Her upper lip quirked when she saw Ognom merely stumble slightly and then regain his bearings.

Ash did _not_ look happy about that.

He looked even _less_ happy about it when Ognom grabbed him by the shoulders and sent him flying across the padded cell, his back connecting with one of the cushioned walls before he hit the floor with a **thud**.

The most puzzling thing about this exchange was the fact that the look on Ash's face became one of smug satisfaction rather than the expected _pain_.

The reason for his change in attitude became apparent when he stood and worked one of the arms of his straight jacket loose. The impact with the wall had managed to snap one of the buckles in half, leaving one of his arms free. The other arm followed suit shortly afterwards and then the straight jacket hit the floor in front of Ash.

Gesturing with the hand he still had, Ash cocked his head to one side at Ognom, "Come get some, you deadite son of a bitch."

Seconds of scuffling passed, the wrestling match between the two so fierce that Doctor Masi had a hard time telling what was going on...

Right up until a piece of decaying flesh hit the small observation window with a soggy flop.

The single thought that made itself known in the Deadite Doctor's consciousness in that precise moment was "Oh..._shit_."


	7. Chapter 7

"So _then_ what happens?"

"Then the hero kills his captors and triumphantly rides off into the sunset." Ash J. Williams, former S-Mart employee, former mental patient and current freelance writer put his hands--er, _hand_--behind his head and propped his feet up on the editor's desk.

The woman behind the desk sat back and looked at him skeptically, "That's a little bit predictable an ending, don't you think?"

"It's still got all the earmarks of a surefire hit series...and loads of twists and turns along the way." He pointed his index finger at her, "Really, how many heroes get to have one _real_ hand while losing the other and replacing it with a mechanical one?"

"Luke Skywalker," she said without missing a beat.

"Ok, I'll give you that one, but he didn't have a chainsaw."

"Right…he had a light saber."

"Not attached to a bloody stump, he didn't." Ash nodded sagely, "This is gonna be a hit, I can feel it in my bones."

"Well, if you can actually _write_ the thing, I'll see what we can do about publishing it." The editor shifted a few of the papers on her desk aside, "If nothing else, we'll have the teenage boy demographic by the ears."

Ash leaned forward, "How much bread are we talkin' about here?"

"I don't know for certain…you have to understand, Mister Williams, you haven't even put pen to paper yet. Hell, you don't even have a title yet."

"Sure I do," he snapped, "'King Ash The Great'. We covered that already."

"Well 'King Ash The Great', that title won't sell. That much I _can_ tell you." She picked up one of the contracts in front of her and passed it and a pen over to the man across from her, "You've gotta call it something catchy. Something _memorable_."

Ash gave the contract a quick perusal before he scrawled his signature on the dotted line at the bottom, "I'll come up with something."

"I'll expect the first chapter of this magnum opus by the first of next month, Mister Williams." The contract was folded and slipped inside a desk drawer for safe keeping before the editor got up to shake Ash's hand, "And you'd better have a title by then."

Ash nodded, "Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. I'll have something _really_ unforgettable by then."

"Good. I trust you can find your way out?"

Ash sneered at the derogatory comment, "I'm missin' a hand, not a hemisphere of my brain."

"Nice come back. Keep that wit sharp, Mister Williams…you're going to need it in the publishing world."

But the door had already been slammed behind him, leaving the editor alone.

"Why do _I_ always get the crackpots?" the woman behind the desk asked the empty room before reaching for her coffee cup and taking a sip.

The door to her office sprang open suddenly and Ash poked his head back inside, "Hey, I got the title."

"Do tell."

"I'll call it 'Evil Dead'."

-

A/N: Come on...you had to have seen this coming.

Oh, you didn't?

I guess I _am_ the queen of misdirection, aren't I? Even though I dropped hints left and right…

Besides, I couldn't very well pander to the expected ending where Ash just _wins_...that would be the same as every _other_ ED story ever written. How dull.

Blame this turn of events on the fact that I don't believe in the fourth wall and have no problem mixing fantasy and reality until they're indistinguishable from one another. Is the Ash in this story an actual hero who lived the tale he's trying to sell, or is he just a writer with an overactive imagination? I leave the interpretation up to you.

Final notes: I love playing word games and I tend to do so with the names of my characters. Mira Masi and Perre Tattorb, for example...I'm ashamed of all you ED fans who didn't realize that those two names are anagrams of Sam Raimi and Robert Tapert. As for Ognom…that's Mongo spelled backwards, because it's just not one of _my_ stories without a Mel Brooks reference.


End file.
